


Times Brought Back to Life (But I'll travel back in time, just for you)

by Katonica



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: !!!, Animal Death, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Iron Dad, Mental Health Is Important, Mentions of Skip Westcott, but he's redeemed, flash is a dick in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 02:32:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16823380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katonica/pseuds/Katonica
Summary: Sometimes, things can go too far. Flash didn't mean for it to happen, but it happened anyway.He'd do anything to turn back the time. If only he could.





	Times Brought Back to Life (But I'll travel back in time, just for you)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [starksparkr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starksparkr/gifts).



> This was a story that was influenced by a few friends of mine, but mainly by [starksparkr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starksparkr), so I hope they all enjoy.

When Flash had watched Peter faint from watching the stupid sex ed video they had been shown for the past few years, a light bulb had gone off in his head.

It had been easy enough, with the Photoshop provided by the school and looking up photos to upload onto the drives. Peter had enough photos on the school page and Google, with all the awards he had won over the years.

They had all laughed at the images, some crying tears of sadistic mirth as they uploaded the images onto anonymous sites.

There was no harm that could come from these photos.

* * *

Peter heard his phone ping loudly, alerting the whole class to his cellular device. One ping became two, then three, then hundreds. The phone started to shake rapidly, startling the boy from his work to look sheepishly at the teacher.

He quickly turned it on, seeing the call from an unknown caller. He frowned, but knowing the policy in his class, he had to turn it on speaker as he answered. “Hello…?”

“Hey, you’re the kid who’s doing all those porn images, right?” Peter froze, jolted as Mrs. Warren’s eyes widened.

“No, I’m not.” A laugh came from the other side. “You’re kidding. You look so… delectable in these photos! The way your brown eyes widen as-” The voice became low and gravely as it continued to describe the photos, making Betty unconsciously raise her hand to cover her open mouth.

Peter’s eyes pooled with tears as he shook his head rapidly, yelling, “You’ve got the wrong person!” before hanging up the phone and scrolling through the links that thousands of people had sent him.

How had his number become _public_? How did these photos _come to life?_ _Why were they here?_

His head felt light as he swayed from his seat. He tried standing up, his body becoming a leaf in the ruthless wind, to be destroyed as it continued its path to the inevitable rot and decay. “Mrs. Warren…”

Images faded in and out of his vision, and something connected with his head and made his ears ring, his senses going haywire as panicked voices echoed around him, making him scream. His phone, a glowing box that made him want to gouge out his eyes, stayed on an image of his younger face being taken by a man whose face was hidden.

Words were too loud to be processed, his head pounding with the sensory overload that he could barely feel coming along and staying, like a parasite that decided his body would be the best to infect, damage and destroy. “Skip his class…”

_Skip._

* * *

He didn’t know if he screamed. He only knows that his mind shut down after a loud sound emitted had torn through his throat, ruining his voice. Ruining the one thing that could protect him.

He woke on a bed, the room too white to be his classroom where he had passed out. He tried moving, only feeling his body radiate pain from his head. Peter’s hand moved to his head and he looked at it.

Fresh crimson decorated his hands like a vicious painting, taunting him. His eyes looked around, squinting as he tried to ‘dial’ his eyes down to the five it used to be instead of the twenty it was at.

His hands screamed for him to stop, his mind looking at the glowing screen that was a little too high for him to look at. They trembled, scrolling past the _May_ , the image of the smiling woman moving away from his reach and landing instinctively on the photo of _Mr. Stark_ that showed an annoyed man as he attempted to block the camera.

“It’s physics right now, kid. You love that class.” The voice of his mentor, the man who he had seen as his protector when he was younger and even now, made him feel so _relieved._ The tension left his body and ( _when had he even stood up? When had he made his way to the gate of the school?_ ) he collapsed onto the ground, alerting bystanders who walked past the school, alarm on their faces.

“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t know, I didn’t…” His voice became a sound of gibberish, the stuttering and sobbing becoming more and more of a concern to Tony as the boy started bawling on the other line.

Tony wasn’t used to being the one who had to calm others, but for Peter, he’d try. “Kid, I’m on my way. I want you to walk around slowly…” And bit by bit, as Tony placed his phone on the car’s side pocket, driving his way to Peter, he instructed the boy what to do as he made his way to the school.

“Alright. I want you to turn around and exit the gate. I know you can.” His voice wasn’t his own, as it had turned to a smooth octave of a low alto, his voice accented by the calming smile on his face as he saw the boy.

Peter was a mess. There was blood that caked his hair, tear stains down his face and cheeks so red they could have been a replacement for his suit. The snot was wiped away on an oversized sweater Peter had worn that day, ruining the warm outerwear.

“Come on. Let’s get away from here.”

But as they drove away, Peter still a destroyed mess from the events that had happened an hour ago, Flash only saw the boy enter an expensive car, and leave.

* * *

Peter fucking Parker was allowed a service dog. Flash snarled, slamming his locker shut as the boy quickly walked past him, startling the other students around him at his feral behaviour.

“Fucking dog…” He looked at his friend, standing next to him. “Bet you that the person who requested for him to have the mutt wasn’t even Tony Stark. It was probably his poor aunt, but he was too ashamed to say anything.”

It didn’t even stop there. “Peter Parker?” A soft voice called, during the fourth period. There was a woman with smile creases behind her glasses, wearing a brown wool sweater and holding a clipboard. “I’m here to pick you up.”

Peter froze, his hands shaking as he attempted to pack his things up, only to drop them onto the ground, then trying to pick them up and dropping them again. “Peter, go.” MJ murmured to him, stopping his hands from trying to grab at the books again and lightly shoving him to the door.

He nodded and left.

"Peter left in an expensive car the other day, you know." A simple whisper and the wildfires that had been dying down from the images became fiercer than ever, biting at Peter's heels as he attempted to escape with his sanity intact.

* * *

It became routine for the boy to leave class every fourth period to go talk to the woman. From what Flash had heard, the lady was the new school psychologist, which had been implemented for the mental safety of the students attending. The rumours still spread around the school, the internet, about Peter Benjamin Parker.

But lo and behold, there was Peter fucking Parker, smiling for the first time in a few weeks, talking to the fucking mutt as they waited to cross the street, and Parker hadn’t heard him approaching.

Maybe it was too sadistic to use that new sound program he had installed for his video project, but that wasn’t going to stop him.

Flash’s eyes looked at the sounds that were in the app and decided on one, _Gunshot._ It’s all in good fun, obviously. There was no harm that could come from this sound.

All he needed was one tap, and-

**_“Bang!”_ ** His phone played the sound close to the dog, startling it. Peter, who jumped in surprise at the sound hadn’t had enough time to hold the leash firmly, and as Flash ran away from the scene without Peter noticing him, he heard the inevitable sound of the screeching wheels and the _thump_ that would haunt his dreams for years to come.

He tried to. But he couldn’t tune out the horrified scream of the boy he hadn’t mean to scar echo through his ears, the sound making him wish he was deaf, making him wish he hadn’t done any of this.

* * *

Flash wanted to hurl. The way Peter had fallen asleep at his desk during classes, or the way the psychologist had to slowly drag the boy out of the classroom during the fourth period, it made him want to turn back the time.

Some days, he compared Peter to a piece of paper. The way that it had folded in the beginning, with a clean line when he had lost his parents. But then it had crumpled somewhere between the death of his parents and his uncle died, and thrown into the mud when Flash had come into his life, then stomped on, and now…?

Ripped apart into the tiny pieces of happiness Peter had once had. The boy didn’t eat anymore, and in Flash’s vision, looked almost grey. He almost wanted to walk up to Peter and give the boy his lunch, force-feed the boy if necessary.

"Dude..." Flash dropped out from his train of thought to look at his friend, who was looking in horror at her phone.

"What?" His friend said nothing more but gave Flash the glowing device, her small hands trembling just the slightest as she passed it.

Flash read the screen. It was an old court case. _Accused: Skip Wescott; Crime: Sexual Assault of a Minor; Victim: Peter Benjamin Parker_

His face shattered, the usual, confident facade broken down into the horror of realization. He quickly checked the year. _2011_.

"Jesus Christ..." Flash slammed the phone onto the table, calculating. Peter had only been 9 when he had been... "Fuck. Take all those photos down, now."

Without hesitation and in fear of the terrifying tone in the leader’s voice, everyone at his table took out their laptops, deleting everything on the sites they had posted on. Even if anything they posted stayed on the internet, they would try to remove as much of it as possible.

Flash sat there, stunned. He didn't realize. He thought Peter had just had special privileges. He hadn't meant to do anything to the stupid- No, that incredible dog.

He had just startled it too much before it had been hit by the fucking speeding car on the New York roads.

All he had done was pick on a boy's past, which happened to be _rape_ , the one fucking thing. He hadn't apologized for... anything.

Everything hit Flash like a truck. From the way, Peter avoided older people, to freaking out of the sex ed video, even panicking over a photoshopped photo of his younger self...

Sometimes, Flash wished he could turn back time, with some science or some magic. _Now_ , he thought, _sometimes would become forever_. He wished he could take back everything he ever did, uncrumple that paper, flatten it, smooth it, piece it bit by bit together.

"Oh... Fuck."

**Author's Note:**

> Today, photoshop can make anything possible. Most people see digital editing as a skill but it can honestly be terrifying. We can make messages that were taken out of context, or posts that never even existed with a few brush strokes and cropped out images.
> 
> Don't be that person.


End file.
